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The following is from
CAGES ARE FOR MONKEYS: Unleashed with Kevin Olson, Racing’s Zaniest Hall
of Famer, a book we put out with Kevin
in 2016. It was definitely been the most raucous literary project
we have ever done.
The excerpt, from Chapter 7: Kiwi Championships, Kiwi Capers,
describes early 1980s adventures while Sleepy Tripp and KO were
traveling Australia, invited to compete in Midget events during our
winter months. Action was pretty spectacular on the track, such as at
the Trevor Morris Championship feature in the South Island. Above is KO
climbing out in Victory Lane. He commented “Another competitor came over
to see if my right rear could be legal. I kinda walked away with that
race."
But things also turned a bit intense off the track. In Kevin’s
words:
We would constantly be invited to homes for
dinners and barbeques. I remember the first night quite well. One of
Sleepy's longtime mates, Brent "Hurricane" Holden, came around. He is a
former Midget driver who has been the tee shirt guru for Western Springs
for the last four decades. He and I became great friends, and he does
all of my shirts for the Chili Bowl each year. He hauled Buster and me
off to a party in the basement of someone called Ax. Also included were
a couple of my hard-working pit crew, locals named Neil McCook and Grant
Walker. (I immediately named Grant "Danny Kaye" as he resembled a young
Danny when I first met him.)
John Godfrey,
who later came to the United States and built the Stealth Midgets,
helped me out on the car and he came along too. Sleepy stayed home to
hang with the Australian team. After inhaling a few of Ax's special
mixed drinks, I was getting up in the power band pretty far, and Ax was
really enjoying listening to us. But there was a girl who took offense
at some of our off-color stories and said she hated the Yank race team.
I decided I would try to improve international good will by being a
little more personal. I started parading around in my boxer shorts that
had USAC Midget Champion stitched across the front. It didn't work out
so well. Things got a little worse.
Ax was a
tropical fish nut. Among his tanks was a great big one about eight feet
long, full of these big Jack Dempsey fish. He had an old telephone that
he cranked to put out electricity and he showed us how to shock the
water to feed the fish. As he was electrifying the water, I climbed onto
a chair and was showing him how we shocked the fish in the US by
dangling my private parts into the water. While I was demonstrating the
technique, Buster came up behind me with the telephone and put the wires
on me. He cranked it up. Caught completely by surprise with the shock, I
fell off the chair, grabbed the side of the tank, and down on the floor
I went. Unfortunately, the side of the tank went along for the ride. It
was like the movie The Poseidon Adventure. A hundred gallons of water
washed me, Buster, and Ax down on the floor accompanied by all the Jack
Dempsey fish. The fish were flopping all over the rug, while people
scattered to keep from getting soaked. Ax started picking up all the
fish and putting them in other tanks.
So far he was
cool. He told us that everything was all right and to have another
drink. I did, even though when the tank broke I cut my hand and I was
wiping it on my forehead. I looked like I had just flipped out of the
high banks of Winchester.
As we were
finally getting ready to leave, Ax showed us a parakeet in a cage
upstairs. I told him I was going to show him how Ozzy Osbourne bit the
head off of a bird on stage once. I picked the bird up and acted like I
was really going to do it. Ax was petrified after my previous
performance and begged me not to, but when I put it up to my mouth, the
parakeet pecked me in the tongue. Stunned, I let go of it and it flew
away out the door, never to be seen again.
I suggested to
Brent and Buster we'd better hit the road as I might have possibly have
worn out my Down Under welcome on night number one. All I could think as
we slid away was that I hoped Sleepy was right about how Tattersall and
other Americans had raised hell. Otherwise, I might be deported back to
another planet before the Series was over.
When we got back to the motel I forgot I had the blood all over my face
and was still in my boxers. I had never met the Australian team, so I
decided to go to their room where Sleepy was talking with them. Erin
took me over and we burst in unannounced. They thought it was an attack
of a serial killer and were prepping to break my neck, when Sleepy
pointed out, "He's the other member of the American team!"
...
Before my stay was over, I think I may have over-revved the partying a
little bit. Stories of the havoc I caused off the track made George
Tervit a little upset. He didn't bring me back the next year. He said I
wasn't a good traveler.
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